


bonnie and clyde

by jimlafleur



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thieves, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Partner in Crime AU, Robbery, mention of violence, some fluff too i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimlafleur/pseuds/jimlafleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How would you feel about a gold-plated Rolex?” She said casually as she scrolled through the website, her feet up on the desk and a McDonald's bag resting on her lap. </p><p>From the other side of the room, Bellamy shot her a dirty look. “<i>A</i> Rolex? Meaning <i>one</i> Rolex? Clarke, how long have we been doing this for? Do you take me for a cheap criminal? Let's be real here,” he huffed, then lifted the phone back up to his ear. “Alright Octavia, I think I have to go. Clarke's acting worryingly.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	bonnie and clyde

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [skimmoned](http://skimmoned.tumblr.com/) for requesting Bellarke + Partners in Crime AU. :) I Never thought I'd ever write anything like this, yet... here it is. :) I hope you enjoy!

“How would you feel about a gold-plated Rolex?” She said casually as she scrolled through the website, her feet up on the desk and a McDonald's bag resting on her lap.

From the other side of the room, Bellamy shot her a dirty look. “ _A_ Rolex? Meaning _one_ Rolex? Clarke, how long have we been doing this for? Do you take me for a cheap criminal? Let's be real here,” he huffed, then lifted the phone back up to his ear. “Alright Octavia, I think I have to go. Clarke's acting worryingly.”

Clarke snorted and shook her head, but didn't argue. She heard Octavia on the other line muttering words of concern. Clarke could pick up the younger Blake's words only barely: “What do you mean, _worryingly_? Is something wrong?”

Slowly, she lifted her eyes and bit her lip. As far as Octavia knew, her and Bellamy were friends from college who teamed up in the prosperous and successful business of _housekeeping_. But Bellamy had always said that they were going to have to change their story someday. “Octavia's smarter than to believe that I would actually let someone pay me for cleaning up after their nasty-ass kids.” Fortunately for them, however, Octavia lived across the country, and only visited once or twice a year. And during those visits, talking about their work was the last thing either siblings wanted to do.

The truth of Bellamy and Clarke's trade was much more enticing. The only honest bit of their tale was how they met in college. Bellamy had originally lived in California with Octavia and their mother. However, Ms. Blake was absent almost all the time, out looking for work or doing _other_ jobs, the ones she didn't talk about with her children. But Bellamy was clever enough to understand what his mother was hiding. He tried shielding the truth from Octavia, but he knew the only way for them to get a chance at something better, something good, was if Bellamy worked his ass of in school, at work… in virtually everything he did. He figured, if he grew to be a success, then he could make up for their mother's failed attempt at parenthood. So he worked hard every day, if not studying then working extra hours at work, and if not that, playing sports so that his chances for a scholarship were greater.

Bellamy's effort was not for nothing, as Octavia looked to him for inspiration and made her way through school just as easily, while earning all the respect in the world at the same time. However, Bellamy wasn't around to see his sister's full journey, because as soon as he graduated High School and as soon as she'd entered middle school, he had gotten a scholarship to Brown University.

The Ivy League school was located in Rhode Island, on the east coast, tens of thousands of miles away from Octavia. Of course, Bellamy thought about giving up the dream for some place more local, so that he could be with his sister… but he knew that was a silly thought. Despite how unselfish he was, he needed to accept the scholarship for himself.

So Bellamy went to Brown, and a few years later he met Clarke.

Across the room, he threw a wink at her, and soothingly assured his sister, “Don't worry about it, O. I'll talk to you soon, okay?” He hung up and threw his phone behind him, where it landed on the other end of the couch. “Crisis averted, Princess. Now keep searching. I will not fill our home with cheap and innumerous objects.” Clarke sighed and shoved a couple fries into her mouth, returning her attention back to the monitor.

Her own story was quite different. She had grown up much more locally, in New York. Her parents were brilliant scientists and were considered by many to be the smartest couple in all of the state. Clarke was raised with high expectations on her shoulders, and she met them easily, of course — but that wasn't to say the stress never got to her. When she was 16, her father was murdered. Someone had been trying to break into the Griffin household to steal, pillage, and destroy… and they got what they wanted. Jake was able to hold on for about an hour after the bullet tore through his chest, but the doctors couldn't save him. “The fact that he held on for so long says something, though.” One of the nurse's told her. “He was a strong man.”

Clarke didn't have to be told how strong her father was. She knew already. Everyone was trying to make her feel better, but their efforts were fruitless. No matter how many words were spoken, no matter how many memories were recalled, and no matter how long the perpetrator was put in prison, she could not recover. A darkness had begun to flourish in her heart. She graduated school and received many honors, like her father would have wanted her too. She applied to Brown, where her parents had attended, and got in easily. To the outside world, it looked like Clarke was all better. But she never forgot.

Bellamy had been her roommate Raven's boyfriend during Clarke's first year at Brown. The three of them were good friends, and got to know each other very well. But after that first year, Bellamy and Raven broke up, and Raven relocated to a different dorm on the other side of the campus. Clarke hardly ever got to see her anymore, and was left with Bellamy and a few of her other friends, Roma and Monroe. However, it was during her second year and Bellamy's last that they really became friends. It was during that second year that Clarke learned the story of his childhood, that he'd apparently told no one ever. And it was during that second year that Clarke pegged him the question: _do you want to do something wild and dangerous?_

“I found something," she was saying now. "Something up to your ridiculously high standards. Come here and check it out.”

She placed the fries down on the desktop and picked the burger back up. As Bellamy approached, Clarke pulled her legs off the table and tucked them under the desk, pulling her seat in as well. Bellamy fell into the rolly-chair and pushed himself into the spot next to her. Before looking at what she had pulled up, he grabbed her burger straight out of her hand and took a huge bite out of it — so, he basically swallowed half of it in one bite.

“Hey!” She yelled, grabbing the McDouble out of his hands and swatting him over the head. “No. Bad.”

He laughing a loud, bellowing laugh for several seconds before he had the strength in him to reply. “What do you think I am, a dog?” She didn't respond, just nibbled on her burger, and he gave up and turned to the computer. “Fine, fine. What have we got, Princess?” He bent over and nearly pressed his face against the screen while he read. _He's such an old man,_ she thought with a smile. _But he's too stubborn to admit that his eyesight sucks._

“You know, successful criminals usually have to see in order to commit the crimes they set out to commit.”

He scoffed, and shot her a glare over his shoulder. “My eyes are _fine_. Besides, glasses are big and get in the way. They're a great inconvenience.”

“Wow, Einstein, have you ever heard of these handy things called _contacts_?”

He scoffed again, and reached his hand across the table to grab some fries. Clarke immediately shot her hand forward and swatted his grasping fingers away. “ _No_. I asked you if you wanted anything, and you said no. You had your chance, and you blew it. These are _mine_.”

Bellamy's mouth gaped and his brows furrowed. “I only said no because I was planning on stealing all your crap! It's all about saving money, Clarke. We may be thieves, but that doesn't mean we can be economically inept.”

She kicked him in the shin. “Just read the damn page.”

As he rubbed his hand up and down his leg and pressed his face against the monitor, his expression became less and less pained and more and more intrigued. “ _5_ Rolex's? _In stock_?” He looked back at her and grinned. “Most stores of this size don't have _one_. Store hours… management… have you found anything out about the owner here?”

“Mhm.” Clarke bent forward and shoved the last of the hamburger into her mouth. As she chewed, she pulled up a picture of a man with a balding head, a large, round middle, and a bolo tie tied under his collar. “This disgusting heap of a hillbilly is named Tomasso Bullton. He grew up in Texas, led a pretty normal life… got arrested a few times for burglary before he opened the shop.” Clarke snorted. “I have no idea how he managed to pull that off, but he did. I thought that might mean the Rolex's could be fake, but… I texted Monty a little, and he helped me hack into the guy's computer.” Clarke smirked, proud of herself. “I saw the documents. Those babies are definitely real.”

Bellamy nodded. She continued. “The place is pretty under-managed: it had it's grand opening around a month ago, and it hasn't completely gotten into the groove yet.”

“That makes our job easier then.” Bellamy said, smiling smugly. “And cameras?”

“Hacking into them will be easy. I could do it in my sleep.” Clarke shook her head and exhaled a happy sigh. “It's like this guy is asking to be robbed. Definitely better than 1 Rolex, no?”

He grinned and spun around in his chair. He was facing her now, and he had a devilish look in his eyes. “You're damn right,” he growled, and he reached out to grab her under her thighs. He lifted her easily, though she wasn't expecting it, and she fumbled over the top of his head. Bellamy twisted her around so that rather than straddling him, she sat neatly in his lap. Then he dug his face into her hair, pecking soft kisses on every free patch of skin he found. Clarke's lips turned upward in a small smile, and she rolled her eyes when he placed a final chivalrous kiss on her cheek. “You're the best, Griffin.”

“I know,” she sighed, running her fingers through her curls.

“You ready to get into character?”

She turned her head and met his glance. “Of course. These days I spend more time in character than otherwise. I'm _always_ ready.”

* * *

Bellamy hadn't _always_ been the power-hungry, vengeful, and bloodthirsty one. Back then, however many years ago, Bellamy had been innocent. Clarke was the wild one, the girl with a mission, a goal, and a plan. Bellamy was just the muscles of the operation. He was along for the ride.

Clarke had done all the research; she'd discovered which prison her father's murderer had been put in, then she'd looked up the security and management of the prison, then she went to Monty so that he could teach her the ins and outs of hacking. In no more than a week, their plan was fully developed, their equipment was all bought, and they were just waiting for their moment to come.

Currently, Clarke was pulling on a tight-fitting red v-neck dress that when just above her knees. Bellamy was rummaging through his drawer and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw him pull on a white blouse. He left the top few buttons undone, and slid a black leather belt through the loops of his dress pants. Clarke, on the other hand, was struggling to pull the dress on all the way. She gritted her teeth, sucked in her stomach, and tried to shimmy the zipper up, but she kept losing her grip on it and her arm kept cramping. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, she muttered, “Hey, can you come help me with this?”

Bellamy nodded and strode over to her. She watched in the mirror as he ran his fingers through his mop of hair. He used to slick it back with gel, but he stopped once she told him how terrible he looked. So now he wore it shaggy and curly. When he came up behind her, he rested one hand on her waist, and pulled the zipper up with the other. Clarke held her breath, but let it go when she felt him stop pulling. However, he hadn't pulled the zip up all the way yet, so she furrowed her brows and twisted her head to look at him. “Something wrong?”

“Don't get me wrong, Clarke, I really love this dress — but you always wear it when we do this. And I'm pretty sure you've had it since high school, it's so small on you. You have so many other options to choose from… why this one, always?”

A slight smile pulled at the corner of her lips. She shook her head loosely, and exhaled before replying: “This was the dress I wore to my father's funeral.”

They met each other's glance in the reflection of the mirror, and Clarke saw Bellamy's eyebrows raise, and slowly lower again. Then he blinked a few times, smirked, and looked back down at the zipper. “You know, Princess…” His hand drifted up her back until she felt his fingers curl under her bra strap, tracing the pads of his fingers along the skin under the fabric. “We killed your dad's murderer ages ago. Why do you hold onto the past?” At this point, his body was pressed up against her back, and his head was bowed over her shoulder. He whispered in her ear, and she felt his warm breath down her neck. Her eyes fluttered, and she tipped her head back to look at the ceiling. Their cheeks brushed and she breathed in his musky scent. Then she rolled her neck and her nose scraped across his skin. Her lips were now nearly touching his ear, and she released her breath with her words.

“I never forget, Bellamy. You should know that about me by now.” Then she pulled herself off of him, slapped his hand off her waist and pushed him back so that her bra strap hit her skin with a _snap_. “Now zip this up. You'll get plenty when we're there. Don't be greedy.” Clarke sighed, flipped her hair over her shoulders, and waited for Bellamy to finish his work. Then she slid on her heels and grabbed her duffel bag. They were all set, and they set out to the car to leave.

* * *

 

Sometimes, they were blessed with easy targets. The first time they worked together, it had been just as easy as their latest task was turning out to be. All that had been required of Clarke was to hack the security cameras and dress herself in a shabby officer's uniform. All Bellamy had to do was keep watch and beat up anyone who seemed threatening. He only had to do that once or twice, and for that Clarke was thankfully. They pulled off the cop look easily, and most people who saw them didn't think twice about their identity. The ones who did stop to ask questions… well, they were the ones Bellamy took care of.

Bellamy had found the pair of keys he required easily, and he opened the door for her. That was when she began.

Today, however, they were performing a completely different operation. They had to be careful, and do their best to go unnoticed. Before they got out of their van, Clarke hacked into the store's security cameras. She kept them all running except the one in the back, where the watches would be stored. She inserted a fixed image onto the camera so when Bellamy entered to get the watches, it would be impossible to know he was ever there. She finished quickly, and they waited until the store was empty before they exited the van. Locking arms, they entered the jewelry store. _The time for working behind-the-scenes is over,_ Clarke reminded herself — this is when they really had to do their job right, and well. _This is where the many hours of improvisation classes come in handy._ Bellamy opened the door for her, and a small jingle of a bell hanging above the door noted the storekeeper of their arrival.

“Oh, look at this!” Clarke squealed not 5 seconds after they entered. She ran to a display table where a chain of pearls hung from a stand. She pretended to fawn over the necklace, smiling widely and holding it up to her chest for Bellamy to see. “Babe, it's adorable. I need it.”

Bellamy gave her a mischievous grin, and pulled her to him by wrapping his arms around her waist. “How can I say no?” He laughed, and she shrieked, and suddenly she crushed her lips onto his and threw her arms around his neck, still clutching tightly to the pearls. He guided her to the wall and pushed her up against it, bucking his hips into her. One of his hands lifted her leg around his back, and then he grabbed her butt and squeezed. She gasped, and her head fell back against the wall. As he kissed her down her neck, she opened her eyes and caught the gaze of Tomasso Bullton. She winked, and then pulled Bellamy's face back up to hers. She gave him one last, long kiss, pressing her body into his, and then she pulled away, lowered her leg, and dropped her arms from around her neck.

“Thank you,” She smiled, and dropped the pearls down the front of his pants.

Bullton didn't say a word, just stood and watched, as they began to browse the store as if nothing had happened. They looked around for a few minutes, Clarke making sure to give Bullton a glance every once in a while. Then it was time to get started, really started.

She picked up a pair of diamond earrings. “Babe?” She called, looking over her shoulder. Clarke hated calling him that, but they couldn't risk using their real names. And neither of them much liked using fake names either. So, the pet names were the last and final option. Bellamy turned, and he held out his hand. She placed the earrings in his palm, and smiled widely. “Aren't they beautiful?”

He looked up at her with a frown. “They're $500 dollars. That's $250 for each earring. Absolutely not, crazy bitch.” He shoved them back into her hands and turned away laughing.

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “ _Excuse_ me? _What_ did you just call me?” She shoved the earrings down on a nearby table and stomped towards him. She punched him in the belly and stepped on his shoes. She accidentally hit his big toe with her heel, and he bent over grunting. Clarke hadn't really meant to hurt him, but… she still felt pleasure in doing so, anyway.

“I called you… a crazy bitch, cause that's what you are.” His eyes were dark and threatening, and if she didn't know he was acting she might have been scared. But instead she lifted her arm and slapped him hard across the face.

His hand flew up to his cheek, and he let out a loud _ugh_. “ _What the hell_ is wrong with you!? You can walk home, slut.” He looked at her for a few seconds with his dark, furious eyes. Then he turned, and left the store in a wave of anger.

“Wait!” Clarke cried. “You didn't leave me any money!”

But he didn't pay attention, and she slumped her shoulders and sighed. The bell over the door _ding_ ed as he left. After taking in a breath, Clarke put on her best pouty face. This was her least favorite part. She trudged over to the front desk, where Bullton stood in awe. She rested her elbows on the counter, held her face in her hands, and blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “Did you hear him?” She whined, shaking her head sadly.

Bullton looked alarmed. “W-what?” He stammered. Clarke noticed a bead of sweat sliding down his foreheads. _Already?_

“Did you hear him? He called me a slut.” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. After a few moments, she looked up. She felt tears watering in her eyes. _Damn, I'm good at this_. “I'm not a slut. Do you think I'm a slut?”

Bullton raised his eyebrows so high they touched his hairline. “What? Me?”

Clarke nodded. “You.” She lifted herself off the counter, and stood up straight. “I'm not a slut. I've been dating him for 5 years. I've never cheated, not even once. I wonder if he can say the same…” She let out another sob, and lifted herself onto the counter. Slowly, she dragged herself onto the other side, so she sat before him. “I thought he was taking me here to buy a ring. To _propose_.” She laughed and shook her head, lifting her hand to her face to wipe her eyes. “How wrong was I? Come here,” Clarke held out her hand for him to grab. When he made no move to take it, she hopped down and walked to him. “I said _come here_. I need a hug.”

He didn't move away when she raised her arms to embrace him, nor did he cringe when she licked his ear, then sucked on it. Finally, he responded, grabbing her and sitting her back on the countertop. He pulled her into a long, deep, sloppy kiss, and was already lifting his hands to her chest. She shooed them away, and tried to keep him focused on her kiss, but he was restless. Clarke gave in, and cringed when he took her breasts in his hands. She still had the protection of her dress, but it wasn't much, and wouldn't last for long. She dared to open her eyes and look through the window of the door behind them. Bellamy wasn't through yet, or at least not that she could see. Mentally, she cursed him. _All you have to do is pry open the window, replace a couple real watches with a couple fake watches, and then get your ass out of there. Does it really take that long?_

Clarke tried to buy some time by kissing him down his neck, the same way Bellamy had done to her not 10 minutes ago. She sucked on his skin, trying to avoid his beard and his warts, and left bright red marks in her path. She skillfully undid the buttons of his shirt, and pulled his stupid bolo tie out of her way so that she could find more skin. This worked for a few minutes, but Bullton was getting impatient. Clarke felt him on her thigh, and once again she peered over his shoulder for a sign of Bellamy. Still, nothing.

Bullton would wait no longer. His hands grabbed her ass and squeezed _hard_ , much harder than Bellamy had, and she let out a yelp. He chuckled lowly, releasing her slowly and then grabbing for her dress. _No_ , she thought, but if she stopped him, what would happen? He would find Bellamy, then they'd be caught, then they'd be arrested and put into jail for their whole lives. _I can't let that happen_. But she couldn't let this happen either, so as he pulled himself out and was about to pull her dress up all the way, she took hold of him and moved her hand up and down, up and down.

From her new angle she couldn't see the window very well, and that made her uncomfortable. She did her job for as long as she could manage, but it still wasn't enough time. She tried to distract him longer with a few more kisses, _that's all I need, just a little bit longer_. But he was grabbing at her dress again, and she didn't know what else to do. He was already trying to push himself into her, even though her underclothes weren't off all the way. _Dammit, Bellamy_ , she began to think, feeling desperate and violated and hopeless… when she opened her eyes and he was there.

He looked at her, mortified, his mouth in a tight line and his eyes narrowed in fury. It was the same look he had given her a long time ago, when he watched her through the window of the prison cell. She'd broken the glass of the light above his head, and held a large shard up to the enemy's throat. Blood had already been trickling down his neck. The glass was cutting into her hand as well, and she very clearly remembered the feeling of warm liquid dripping down her skin. _What are you waiting for?_   She had been thinking, and when another voice inside her said _I have no idea,_ that's when she pulled the glass across his throat, digging deep into his skin, and splattering blood everywhere. And Bellamy had been watching the whole time.

He gave her the same look right now. But back then it was a look of awe. Now it was one of fear. For half a second Clarke thought he was going to open the door and pull Bullton off her himself. But she gave him a look that said _go, quick_. And that was enough. He nodded and jumped back out through the back window, closing it slowly behind him, and taking off in a sprint.

Clarke saw her opportunity. With all her strength, she pushed Bullton off of her and kicked him in the middle. He grunted and slammed into the wall behind him. “What the fuck!?” He yelled, rushing back towards her. But she had already hopped down from the counter on the other side, and was jogging away towards the main door.

“Sorry,” She yelled over her shoulder. _But not really._ “I just realize I have a hair appointment in 10! Maybe next time!” _Maybe never._ The bell dinged when she opened the door and left.

* * *

As soon as she entered the van, Bellamy took her into a tight hug. His hand held the back of her head and Clarke was sure she felt him shaking. “I’m so sorry,” He whispered after a while, and Clarke felt herself smile. “I shouldn't have taken that long. I'm so sorry.”

Clarke nodded. “It's alright.” He rubbed her back, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Can you do me one thing, though?”

He pulled away immediately, looking her right in her eyes. “Of course.”

“Help me out of this dress. I feel… sick… staying in it.”

Bellamy complied, and she turned around. He easily undid the zipper, and pulled the dress down to her ankles. Then, as she stood covering herself with her arms, he undid his dress shirt. He pulled it off and handed it to her. “Here,” he said, helping her slide into it. “For until we get home.”

Clarke smiled. “Thank you.”

He tried smiling back at her. “Are you alright, Clarke?”

She nodded. “Yea, he didn't actually… get in there. I'm fine.” He nodded in relief, but he still watched her with concerned eyes. “Did you get the watches?”

She saw a genuine smile spread across his face. “Of course I got the watches. Who do you think I am?”

And with that, they began the car ride home. The radio played softly, and Clarke was looking at the watches. Eventually she put all of them on one arm, and they both laughed. They were nearly there when Clarke saw something outside. “Stop,” She told him. “Right there, at the dumpster.”

He looked confused, but he stopped the car anyway. Clarke reached around on the floor behind her seat for her dress. “Here,” she told him. “Take this, and throw it in there.” She nodded her head in the direction of the dumpster.

Bellamy looked surprised. “I thought you said you never forgot.”

She nodded, and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “No. I never forget.” She looked at the dress in his hands. “But now I've got a new reason to remember.” She pictured Bullton's face. Then she pictured the glass shard, cutting into her skin. Then Bellamy threw out the dress, Clarke let out an exhausted sigh, and her stomach rumbled.

“How about McDonalds?” She smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked it! I live off of comments and kudos!


End file.
